Things we lost in the fire
by LadyPalma
Summary: A collection of sansan oneshots.Taking prompts.


**Hello everyone! I'm new to GOT fandom and I'm totally into sansan. So, after a long time not writing fanfictions, I decided to start this collection of oneshots for prompts I received on tumblr. Hope you like the first one and if you have some prompts, please do not hesitate to send me some:)**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _How about Blackwater au, where Sandor spirits her away during the battle, they end up at an inn, and Sansa accidentally drinks too much ale and confesses her feelings? :P_**

 **Little Bird sings too much**

Before deciding to enter an inn, Sandor took some precautions: he waited to be enough distant from King's Landing, got rid of anything in his attire that could match him to the kingsguard and elaborate a sort of cover story for them. About that, he thought at first about the option of present themselves as father and daughter, but unable to bear the disgust that took him at such prospect, chose to go down with the uncle and niece pretense instead. The choice didn't matter anyway though, because once they sat, Sansa chose that exact situation to ler her voice finally be heard after a quite quiet journey.

"Two steaks and two mugs of ale! And you'd better bring them fucking quickly!" he ordered with his usual bark, smirking then a little seeing the frightened look on the young waitress's face.

Maybe that was the reason why the Stark girl interjected in the first place, or maybe it was just to go against his plans.

"Please and thank you. You must apologize my _husband_ , we are just very tired and hungry" she said with a reassuring smile, to which the serving girl blinked a few times but then simply nodded and left.

But, if the girl's evident surprise for their possible relationship vanished quite soon, it was not the same for Sandor. Surprise, or better shock, lingered on his face for several seconds, alongside with other feelings: bitterness, sadness, anger…Until all of them collapsed into a loud joyless laugh.

"What is it?" she dared to ask, when she dared to look at him. "You said that we should have made up a story" she added then right away, because after all she knew exactly what that reaction was about.

His eyes darknened and his lips curved up in what could be described as spiteful amusement.

"Fuck, Little Bird… Aye, I said a story, but a _believable_ one!" he replied, letting that little unfriendly smile fall completely.

 _Well, it actually sounds believable may actually look good together_ – that's what Sansa thought, but carefully chose to bit her tongue on it. Her own spontaneous thoughts were scaring her and she couldn't help the blush that immediately went forming on her cheeks.

She trapped in embarassment, and he trapped in anger, they both refused to speak or to look at each other for the whole meal.

And in silence they drank.

* * *

"Slow down! This is not colored water!" – _And not even the bloody classy wine you learned to sip at Court._

It was Sandor the first one to speak up in the end, with the clear intent of mocking her. But there was also a touch of tenderness and concern in his harsh voice and it was that touch the reason why he broke that heavy truce. Used as she was to sip a half glass of wine, he couldn't help but wonder how she was going to tollerate two mugs of an unknown strong drink. Actually she drank the first one quite slowly like he would have expected of her, but then, probably deciding that the taste was good or that the alcohol in it was helpful, ordered another ale and drank it all in no more than three gulps – the last one of which she was swallowing right when he spoke.

As if the sudden unusual lack of manners and the redness on her face wasn't enough to prove that she was rather tipsy, Sansa let out a strange laugh while placing down the mug and then looked up at him, straight in the face without wavering. Although that kind of look was something he had always wanted from her, he could not ignore the fact that it was alcohol making her brave enough to face the beast.

"Stop drinking, Little Bird, you've had enough" he said, firmly but with an usual softeness.

"Why? Are you afraid that your _wife_ embarasses you? Why is the idea of me being your wife so unbelievable to you?" she replied, raising her voice and revealing completely her anger.

That tone for a moment took him off guard. Between the ones that cried and the ones that kissed, it seemed she was the kind of drunk that yelled. But what on earth was she angry about and with whom? If the words hadn't caught his attention more than the tone, maybe he would have pressured that point. But instead he did focus on the words – on the w word – and he felt trapped again in his own anger.

"Stop fucking saying it!" he spat now, more firmly and very less softly.

She shook her head, looking away for a short while. But when she looked back at him, unpredictably he saw her eyes shining of tears. Confusion filled him at that reaction and also a sense of powerlessness. He hated to deal with crying women, he hated to deal with _the Little Bird_ crying, but now it was worse because he didn't have a clue about the reason. Maybe she was crying because he was too harsh to her, maybe because she was finally realizing the escape and the fact of being bound to him for the rest of the journey, maybe it was just the alcohol doing. Anyway, it was clear that the Little Bird was the kind of drunk that yelled _and_ cried.

"Com'on, Little Bird, stop crying now" he said, sounding uncomfortable and with that, once again more tender that the usual.

He tried to look away from her and her sad angry eyes, but he didn't manage because she suddenly stretched her arm on the table between them and grabbed his one, forcing him to look again at her. Oh, funny to think how the roles were usually reversed!

"What if I don't want to stop? What if I want to stop running and remain here drinking for ever? What if I want to stop being a lady and finally cry... What… What if… What if I want you?". Her frantic voice stopped for a moment as if a sudden revelation hit her and, unable to refrain herself this time, she just let it out without filters. "I want you, Sandor… I want to be with you". The grip on his arm was loosened, but her stare was holding him in place with a captitative determination.

Just when he thought that nothing could surprise him more in that night, that confession left Sandor with eyes wide open in pure shock, as he felt his lips twitch istincitvely up in the good side of his face. But right that smile, that half smile of his own, was the reminder that prevented him to trade shock for happiness. He closed his grey eyes and as he opened them again, there was only hurt in his look. Not amusement, not tenderness, not even anger, just an overwhelming hurt. He couldn't tell why she was saying those things, but it was undoubtful that they weren't true. How could it be otherwise? How could she, such a pretty little thing that flinched in fear everytime he came a little too close, now suddenly claim to have feelings for him? Either she wanted someone wrapped around her fingers like one of those stupid knights she heard about in the songs, or she was afraid that he could leave her and wanted to keep him close with sweet words. As if he wasn't already gone from hound to puppy in three days because of her. One of the options was the right one, he decided, as he stood up slowly and gently took her by the waist in order to lead her out and let her get some refreshing sleep.

And even if during the whole hour that took her to finally close her eyes she kept telling himthose inviting things and to phisically approach him, he ignored her attempts and avoided her like the plague. It was so ironic to think that up until that moment having her willingly closer to him was everything he could have asked for, but he didn't want it like this. He didn't want a lie.

He preferred to be feared, rather than pitied or mocked.

* * *

When Sansa awoke from her sleep, she found herself under a tree covered in Sandor's cloak and the sun was already up. Sandor was already up as well, feeding Stranger. She sat up slowly since her head hurt, but that soft moves were enough to catch his attention. In fact, she could feel his eyes on her even if that feeling wasn't matched with any words.

"What happened?" she asked, pressing her fingers to her temples. She knew it was a stupid questions – the head wasn't hurting without a reason – but still it could be enough to speak to him. Even if she had been drunk enough to say and do brave and silly things, she hadn't been drunk enough to forget them. Not all the things that had happened were in the right place in her memory, but they were all there, they all came back in the exact moment she opened her eyes.

Sandor just eyed her in silence at first from afar, and only after several seconds decided to approach her. Still without answering, he eyed her a second time then with more attention, probably checking if she was alright and most of all trying to figure out if she was the same person of yesterday or – more likely - the same person as ever.

"Little Bird sang too much yesterday, I guess" he simply replied in the end, with a flat voice and an unreadable face.

It was Sansa's turn to study him. Alongside with her actions, she could now elaborate also his reactions and what she had failed to see the night before was now clearly in her memory: the expression of pure pain in his eyes and the awareness that she was the reason behind it. And so, after a quick consideration, she suddenly stood up and, even ralented by the slight headache that made her waver for a moment, was the one to reduce the distance between them. She came closer, but stopped when closer was still not too close.

"I am so sorry for my behavior. I acted like a child and surely caused you embarassment, when you are already so kind and good to help me. Please, forgive me"

Sandor looked into her eyes and found hismelf unable to deny the truth in her look all cover up in the usual elaborated courtesy of her words. Though, what he found curious was that she didn't seem ashamed like he had predicted, but rather guilty. Good, he thought, maybe she was realizing exactly not the embarassment but the pain he had caused to him and would never try something like that again in the future.

"It's alright,you can quit the chirping, Little Bird. I know very well how one can say something that don't mean when he's drunk. So no damage drunk" he replied shrugging, trying to sound detached, but having to look away in order to sound so. "Now let's go. We have to move" he added, brusquely giving her the back and already starting to walk away.

"Wait!" she stopped him though, instinctively grabbing his arm. It was the second time she was searching such a contact in less than twelve hours and this time she couldn't use alcohol as an excuse. "Please, wait. I never said that I didn't mean what I said. I am apologizing just for my behavior, not for my speech. After all, when you came into my room during the battle, you were drunk… And yet now that you're sober you're still helping me and you don't seem to regret your choice!"

They stared at each other for a long while now, Sansa biting her lower lip and waiting for a reaction and Sandor frowning in confusion trying to actually decide that reaction. Oh, she did look embarassed now, as the slight blush back on her cheeks confirmed, but also she looked sincere once more and the honesty in her eyes was hurting him now even more than her words of the previous night. Also, she had a good point: the whole escape thing had started from a drinking binge and no, of course not, he didn't regret that damn decision to bring her along at all, the hell with the trouble he would have to face! Maybe the same could be said for her and her own binge, now that she was sober was she truly confirming that she wanted him? Well, even if she meant it, it didn't mean that it was exactly what she had in mind. She had just apologized for acting like a child, but in the end she _was_ a child indeed, what could she possibly know about love? But then, on the other hand, old as he was, what could _he_ possibily know about love?

He was caught between the desire of kissing her there in that moment and the request made by his own mistrust not to believe a single word of it. Finally he breathed and just chose not to choose for now.

"We should get going, Little Bird" he repeated in fact, as if nothing ever happened, but still gently taking her hand in his big one, because something had happened.

And for something more to happen, they both knew that they would have needed hopefully another powerful dose of ale for either one of them.


End file.
